If You Think You Can Keep Up
by LoopingTheLoop
Summary: Natasha doesn't need anyone lingering over her shoulder keeping tabs on her. Ivan, her father, thinks differently. Most the men he finds crumble like sandcastles, but this new one is different. Something of a challenge, really. Natasha can take a challenge, and is pretty keen on getting rid of this guy hawking over her as soon as possible. [Bodyguard AU] [Clintasha]
Natasha already decided she hated him, and they hadn't even met yet.

She hated just about every man her father had hired to keep tabs on her. Glorified, muscle bound, babysitters. That's all they ever were. That's all they ever would be. She normally read them like a book. This month alone there had been three before him, and they all quit. The paycheck her father was offering wasn't worth the risk of life and limb, and especially not putting up with a snooty, snobby, spoiled little brat.

At least, that was generally along the lines of what they would say as they resigned. That's what they expected her to be going into it so that was what she gave them. Natasha did pretty much whatever she had to to get rid of them, because she didn't need a bodyguard. Sure, Ivan Petrovich, her father, was probably one of the most feared and influential members of the Russian organized crime ring in the city, and that put quite a target on his back, and because blood was thicker than water, hers too.

Ivan was the sort of man who liked to be prepared for anything. What he had built on the back of his hard work was something he intended to pass along to Natasha when the time was right. Along with ballet and gymnastics classes, he had put her in a myriad of self defense classes at a young age. None of what she had ever learned had been put into practice, but he was insistent that she stay a sharp as humanly possible.

But he wasn't willing to put her in any sort of risk.

So, enter the new meathead.

Well, he was at the foyer with her father, and she was being sure to take as long as humanly possible to avoid this whole mess of having to meet him as long as humanly possible. Ivan was having nary a problem chatting the guy up, though, so the redhead was taking the opportunity to eavesdrop from the hall around the corner..

"And Natasha will be sure to be on her best behavior for you," his heavy accent carried low and strong and she rolled her eyes at his words that he surely knew were a total lie. "She'll be around any minute now.. You know ladies and how long they can take to get ready…"

For the record, it wasn't that she got any pleasure out of being a class-A bitch to these men. It wasn't personal in any sort of way, actually. She had herself convinced that eventually, her father would give up on the whole bodyguard thing all together and stop trying to control her for once.

Being constantly told where to go and what to do, even though she was a fully capable human being with a fully functioning brain, was probably her biggest issue with it all. He wanted to keep her in this little box until it was that magical moment where she would take over the family business and then..?

Natasha was distinctly not a fan of any of it.

"I'm a patient guy. Waiting's not really something I have an issue with," a gruff, totally American voice answered. That was new. Normally Ivan would just get a particularly thick skulled grunt to do the mindless drone work, and the whole lot of them hardly knew enough English to order at a restaurant.

"That's a very good thing, young man. You're going to need to do a lot of it with my, дорогая дочь," Ivan gave a hearty laugh and Natasha had to hold back and audible groan. He liked to play her innocent and as just the pretty thing everyone saw. Not much of a surprise, really. She was less of a target that way.

The redhead figured that there had been quite enough chit-chat, so she slipped from her spot to meet their line of sight. She greeted her father with a kiss to his cheek as always and smiled to him.

"Natasha, I'd like you to meet the newest member of our staff, and your new personal guard, Clint Barton. Barton, this is Natasha," the older man gestured respectively between them, offering a grin to ease the clear reluctance and slight distain Natasha was already displaying as she sized him up.

He was taller than her, but as far as the usual gorillas went he was on the shorter end of the spectrum. He offered a clearly rough, but noticeably clean, hand to shake. In a brief few seconds, her gaze swept him up and down and up again. Short dirty blond hair, blue eyes that did seem as sharp as a blade, and the stiff solid posture of a soldier. His skin was very tanned, but the lines and darker spots suggested it wasn't from normal time in the sun.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Petrovich, I look forward to for you," he had a genuinely pleasant smile on his face, and she noticed how his nose was more than a little crooked to the left. Her father gave her a nudge to shake his hand and say something at least.

"My father," she said simply. Her hand closed around his briefly with one brief shake and she could see from his expression he was confused by her words. "You're working for my father, not for me. I don't need you, or want you for that matter."

Being direct was often the quickest way to sour someone, and she had gotten very good at knowing how to say just the right wrong thing.

Clint didn't even flinch.

He'd been examining her just as well like she had with him. For purely professional reasons, obviously. Anything else would probably earn him a whole load of hell from her father, and he was rather fond of his kneecaps and didn't want them broken any time soon.

She had sharp green eyes. Analytical eyes. Not the airy ditziness he had been expecting, and her words seemed to be ones she believed. Her hand hadn't been as delicate as he would've guessed either. The brief grip had been strong. Whether or not she was right about what she said would only be revealed through time. Jobs were not exactly easy to come by for a guy fresh off his second tour in Iran with very little formal education, so whether she wanted him or not, he didn't intend on letting a few words spook him off.

"Guess that just means my job is going to be real easy, then," his tone was almost posing a challenge. Clint smiled politely, and out of the corner of her eye, Natasha swore she could spot her father grinning a little.

 _Great_. A soldier with a sense of humor.

"I saw you had a few errands to run today, Natasha, so I will gladly leave you in capable hands for the time being." Ivan gave her a little nod and she reluctantly reciprocated it. He must have been snooping around to know that, which honestly wasn't a surprise in the slightest.

He turned on the spot, heading the the elevator before briefly glancing back to Clint to mouth something, though she wasn't sure just what. The metal doors slid open and then Ivan disappeared behind them, leaving Natasha and Clint with only the company of one another.

"I think-"

"I'm going to tell you how this will play out, Barton," she had exactly zero hesitation about interrupting him. "You'll probably stick around for maybe a day or two until I really get under your skin, and then I'll push you over the edge and you'll end up quitting before the week is over. Now, if you ask me, I think you should just throw in the towel now. Save your blood pressure and my time."

Whatever traces of pleasantness in her expression had to have been for the sake of her father, because the almost dead look on her face now was quite a bit different than anything he'd seen before. And he had seen quite a bit.

"I'm guessing that manages to scare off about half the normal guys?" was his surprising response. Clint seemed utterly unbothered.

"Most of the time it's more than half."

"I see, well.. How about I go sit in that chair over there and mind my own business until you need to go out, and then we can so how long it take for you to drive me up a wall?" His tone was just patronizing enough for her to bristle at the words.

"Fine. You want the hard way, that's your business. I'm not going to make this easy on you, so we'll see if you think you can keep up," Natasha gave him one final looking over before turning to head down the hall and finish up what she had been working on before her father interrupted her with this mess.

"I'm pretty quick on my feet, Tasha," he called after her, and smirked a little at the way she very subtly cringed. In that instant she knew she wasn't dealing with anyone actually _trained_ to be doing this, because that was very out of bounds.

She also knew it was going to mean all the things she knew so well to do to get in the normal wall of meat's head wouldn't necessarily apply to him all the way. Natasha was never one to shy away from a challenge, and this would be no exception.

It was just a matter of time.


End file.
